


The Beginning of a Bad Ending

by Whreflections



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Brief bloodplay(in the nightmare), Episode Tag, Episode: s04e16 On the Head of a Pin, Implied Torture, M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-21
Updated: 2012-09-21
Packaged: 2017-11-14 17:14:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/517622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whreflections/pseuds/Whreflections
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set directly after 4X16. Sometimes, even knowing you're going into a train wreck, you have no choice but to keep going. (Mostly a PWP, with a slight plot.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Beginning of a Bad Ending

**Author's Note:**

> This was my very first Dean/Cas fic, written a super long time ago. It was inspired by a quote I can't exactly remember word for word from Criss Angel is a Douchebag where Dean says that for them it ends bloody or sad, no matter what.

_I hate the ending myself,_

_But it started with an alright scene_

_-Disenchanted, My Chemical Romance_

_  
_Castiel settled into Sam’s bed the moment he left. He leaned sideways against the headboard, one knee pulled up to his chest, his eyes fixed on the sleeping man in the bed just feet away. Dean’s sleep was restless, as it had been all night. Every night, really, since he’d come back from the hospital. Forget taking steps back, Dean had regressed miles back into the same kind of internal pain he’d been going through right after being pulled from hell. He was suffering, and Castiel blamed himself for every second of it.  
  
He had prayed for forgiveness, begged his Father to forgive him for forcing Dean into that room with Alistair against his better judgment. Afterward, he had prayed for the strength to continue to obey his orders. That resolve hadn’t lasted, and soon he was back into the habit he had picked up months before of watching Dean sleep, watching over his dreams. It wasn’t exactly invasion of privacy, at least, he didn’t see it that way. It was penance, pain he needed to feel. After sending Dean careening back into all of this, he deserved to hurt for it.   
  
At the moment Dean was the torturer, blade in his hands, blood caking his skin, the light of hellfire in his eyes as he worked over a screaming young man. He had seen this face in Dean’s dreams before, and he knew there was something about the boy that had haunted him. Even so, the dream didn’t stay there. It flickered, changed, became…  
  
Castiel’s breath hitched, surprised by the onslaught of emotion. He had admitted months ago, now, that he felt them for Dean, but getting  _used_  to feeling them was something else entirely. Agony, rage, love…he was becoming accustomed to those, certainly while watching his hunter’s dreams. Jealousy…that one had taken him off guard.   
  
Dean was on his hands and knees under Alistair, naked and writing, covered in blood and sweat and unending red light. He knew better than to think Dean had exactly  _wanted_  this, could tell it even further by the way he twitched in his sleep, his heart racing, breath quickening more in panic than pleasure. But that was now, and the version in the dream, the memory…despite the location and the other creature involved, Castiel could have called Dean nothing short of breathtaking. His head was thrown back, moaning, the muscles in his arms not even quivering as Alistair sliced his shoulder open with a ready blade, dipped his head to suck at the blood.   
  
It was horrifying, infuriating, but even so the sight stirred something in him, the same uncontrollable desire he had felt the handful of times they had made love. It was dangerous, beyond dangerous, and he knew that he would likely one day die for it. If not because of it directly then because of something else his love for Dean made him do, but that was all beside the point now. What was done was done, and perhaps worst of all, he couldn’t bring himself to be sorry.   
  
All things considered, it did make sense to feel jealousy underneath his rage that the filthy creature would ever dare touch Dean in that way. It made sense, but he had never expected it to be so strong.   
  
He had focused too much on his own thoughts, but the feel of Dean’s consciousness rising up in the dream drew him back to the present. This was beyond all doubt still a nightmare for him, bad enough that he was rebelling against it, struggling to wake up.   
  
In the blink of an eye Castiel left the room, waited outside the door under he could hear Dean sit up gasping for breath, cursing. He knew the moment his eyes fell on Sam’s bed from the crash that followed, consistent with the sound of a nightstand being cleared. He waited a moment longer, only reappearing inside again once he had heard water running in the bathroom.   
  
Dean leaned over the sink panting, cold water dripping from his face, down his neck and onto his bare chest.   
  
Unable to resist, Castiel stepped forward to fill the doorframe. “Can I talk to you?”   
  
He saw Dean’s hand clench on the sink’s edge, the muscles in his back tensing against the sound of his voice. “No. No you cannot.”   
  
Castiel’s hand came down gently on his back, barely warming his skin for an instant before Dean jerked violently away. “Stop it. Don’t…don’t…” Dean shut his eyes and shook his head hard once, clearly at a loss for words. “Just don’t.”   
  
“Dean, I know you’re angry with me, but believe me I-“  
  
“You know I’m  _angry_  with you?” Dean laughed, harsh. “I  _told_  you that if I did this, you weren’t gonna like who I was when I came out of it. I  _told_  you I needed to be done with it, for good.” He was staring the angel down, eyes blazing. “And what did you do? You know, I would have liked to think I’d earned a little trust with you, Cas.”   
  
“Dean, I-“  
  
“Shut up.” He paused, daring Castiel to keep going anyway. When he didn’t, Dean continued. “You, you let that son of a bitch call all the shots, and look how well this turned out. Real bang up job on this one. But you know, at least Alistair’s gone…oh wait, you aren’t even responsible for that. My  _brother_  is, but the price of doing it, he’s paving his very own road to hell! So am I ‘angry’ with you?” He shook his head, let out a sharp breath. “Hell no. I’m just done trusting you. I mean, doesn’t make any sense to be angry with tool now does it?”   
  
“ _Dean_.” He stepped forward, blocking Dean’s exit in case he tried to leave. “How many times do you want me to tell you I’m sorry? I was wrong about Uriel, yes. And I am reevaluating my decisions. But if you think I… _feel_  nothing about what happened to you or to Sam, you are mistaken.”   
  
“As I recall, you aren’t to allowed to feel anything.” His eyes narrowed, cold and unyielding. “And far be it from you to disobey an order.”   
  
Castiel sighed, head dropping. “What would you have me do, Dean? You know that I…” He hunched his shoulders, hands buried in the pockets of his trench coat. “Concerning disobedience in my…personal attachments, my superiors were right and I am uncertain whether they even know the whole truth, though it is likely they do. All the same, I have crossed that line. So yes, I have wronged you.” He lifted his head, steel blue eyes burning into Dean’s. “But do not presume to discount the feelings I have for you. Even having them goes against everything I have ever been taught, but it has gone beyond my control or certainly past all my will to stop it. You know that.”   
  
Dean turned away, shaking his head. “This has gotta stop.”   
  
Castiel tilted his head, brow furrowing in confusion. “It won’t stop, Dean, until we prevent Lucifer from bringing on the apocalypse.”   
  
Dean chuckled a little under his breath. “You really think I’m still talkin’ about the war?”   
  
That was exactly what he had been afraid of. “I…don’t know.”   
  
“Yeah, you do. Hell, you may be a little clueless sometimes and infuriating as shit for most of the rest of it, but you aren’t stupid.” He had been facing the wall but he looked back to the angel now, green eyes deceptively calm. “This? The thing we never really talk about? That’s what’s gotta stop.”   
  
He knew that more than anything else, he should have been welcoming that statement. It gave him an out, a way to save himself from the hole he’d rapidly been shoveling his way into ever since he met Dean Winchester. Ending whatever sort of a relationship they’d had was the only way to make sure he could have a clear head again, the only way to keep himself on track. Every day he seemed more and more dangerously close to outright blatant disobedience. None of that mattered as much as it should to him, not anymore.   
  
“Dean, I’m sorry. I told you, I would have given anything not to make you go in there with Alistair, and I’m sorry I-“  
  
“It’s not just about that, Cas! I mean yeah, kinda blindsided me that you’d be the one forcing me back into all that when you know…” He trailed off, left it open. “But it’s more than that it’s…look, it doesn’t matter. This can’t happen. Not anymore.”   
  
“You hate me for this.” It wasn’t a question, mostly. The words came out defeated, almost certain, and he could feel the pain, the weight of the knowledge settling into his bones. The ease of falling in love with this reckless human had taken him off guard, but he had grown to accommodate the feeling. He had experienced some of the darker side of love, worrying for Dean. But this…this was something he hadn’t yet felt. At least, never this strong, this real.   
  
“I don’t  _hate_  you, it’s just…God, will you just stop looking like that!”   
  
Castiel’s eyes snapped up, questioning.   
  
“I’m not…I’m not trying to hurt you, ok? I just…” For a split second, he looked open, vulnerable. “Look, you’ve got your job. And I need to let you do it, because getting in the way of that…all it’s gonna do is get both of us hurt. I can’t trust you, and all being with me is gonna do is fuck you over anyway, so-“  
  
“That isn’t true, Dean.” His words were earnest, almost desperate. “I made this decision.”   
  
“Yeah, and look what it’s cost you already.” Dean stepped forward, pointing in the direction of the warehouse down the road where everything had taken place just days before. “You were almost killed. By one of your own. Now maybe this time it had nothing to do with you or me, but that doesn’t mean that next time it won’t.”   
  
Sometimes human arguments still threw him. Most of the time, actually, but he was learning. Still, it seemed they weren’t even having the same argument anymore. “This is either about your lack of trust in me or about concern, but I hardly see how it can be both.”   
  
“Well it is both, goddammit!” He was yelling now, stepping even closer. “Can’t you understand that? Look, the whole thing is crazy anyway, it doesn’t make a damn bit of sense, and the best thing we can do is just forget it ever happened, alright?”   
  
Truer words were never spoken, but it wasn’t what Castiel wanted to hear. He wasn’t sure, but he was beginning to think that spending an eternity carefully feeling nothing meant that everything hit you that much harder once you decided to let it in. Either way there was no breaking this off, not for him. He would back off if it was what Dean truly wished, but he would still be hanging in the shadows, still disobeying orders if only internally.   
  
He licked his lips, searched for just the right words. “I know that I let you down on this. And before.” He looked up, pleaded with his gaze. “But I am trying. You of all people should know what it’s like to go against family. But I’m doing it for you, and I’m sorry if it’s…slower than you’d like. But I can earn your trust, Dean, if you’ll just let me try. I’ll do what I can.”   
  
“Jesus…” Dean shook his head, pushed roughly past Castiel to go back to the room, pacing. “Why the hell are you even here anyway, huh? Got something new to throw at me?”   
  
“I was watching over you.”   
  
“Yeah, well you can quit. I’m fine.”   
  
“Clearly.” The sarcasm dripping from his voice was enough to get Dean looking at him again, eyebrows raised.   
  
“Hey, you’re gettin’ better at that.”   
  
“Well I am learning from the best.” The humor was tight, their confrontation clearly far from over. “I’ve seen your nightmares, Dean. I wanted to be on hand in case they became too…difficult. You shouldn’t have to be going through this alone.” His voice grew quiet, heavy. “Certainly not when I brought this on you.”   
  
“So you’ve been watching, huh?” His voice had an edge that Castiel knew by now was almost dangerous, the tone he used when he was broken, terrified. “Must be disappointing for you to see just what kinda monster I am, but you know, I told you.” His eyes narrowed, any emotion walled off from them. “I’m not your hero. And I’m certainly not fit to be with anyone. I’m a monster, and that isn’t gonna change. What’s done is done.”   
  
“No, it isn’t!” On this, he could not afford to lose. Dean  _was_  their hero, he was sure of it. The Lord’s prophesy could not be wrong. But even with that unconsidered, the idea of Dean finding himself unworthy of love was, as always, heartbreaking. “You’re not finished, Dean, and you can’t keep writing yourself off. The things you did anyone would have done if they had been pushed-“  
  
“Not my father-“  
  
“-far enough. We can’t understand everything, Dean, but maybe…maybe it’s because you  _are_  stronger. Strong enough to end it. If you remember, the prophesy I told you makes it very plain that the righteous man that spills blood in hell is still a righteous man after his actions. The things he has done there have done nothing to change that. You are still a good man.”   
  
“Look, will you just sell your bullshit to someone else? I’m sick of it, alright? I’m tired. I’m just tired.”   
  
Castiel had been waiting for him to ease up, to show any sign of his anger and nervous energy running its course. Cautiously, he moved closer. “Then rest. I can give you peaceful sleep.”   
  
“How many times do I have to say no to you? Is it that freakin’ hard to understand?” He swore under his breath, went to nearby table for a drink from his flask before coming back almost to where he had stood, closing a little more of the gap between them. His eyes were cold, almost enough to make the angel shudder. “Alright, you saw my dreams. Which means you saw me fucking Alistair.”   
  
God help him, he flinched. This human body was far too fragile, far too prone to reaction before conscious thought. He was letting himself seep too much into it, become too easily controlled by sensation, emotion.   
  
“Yeah, you did. So tell me, Cas...” It was the first time he’d used his name in awhile, and even though the words were harsh Castiel still all but worshipped the fact that he had said it. “How the hell can you still say I’m not a monster?”   
  
“What…what happened there was nothing you wanted.”   
  
“Damn straight.  _Now_. But at the time? Oh I wanted it bad.” He stepped closer, almost close enough to touch. “I was his bitch more times than I can count. And I liked it.” His eyes locked with Castiel’s, unwavering. “So let’s try this again. We’re done. What do you say now? Still want me?”   
  
“I will always want you, Dean. By now that is beyond discussion.” He took a chance, closed the remaining distance and took the hunter’s face in his hands. “I am sorry for everything Alistair did to you, physically and emotionally. I am sorry I didn’t reach you sooner, and I am sorry he has made you believe you are worthy of no one’s love after the things the two of you have done. I am sorry for all of it. I’m not denying the gravity of the pain you feel or the effect it will likely have on you for the rest of your life. But it is not your fault, Dean, and sooner or later you’re going to have to let go of the guilt.”   
  
Dean turned away, slightly. Not enough to pull out of the angel’s grip, just enough to look away. “What the hell do you want from me?” His voice was soft, rough with emotion, almost broken. “Everyone I…” he stopped, swallowed. “Like I told Sam, it ends bloody or sad. There ‘s no fairy tale ending here, Cas, especially not for us.”   
  
“I refuse to believe that. I still have faith. But…” He curved his hand gently around Dean’s jaw, tilted his head to look him in the eyes again. “If I am wrong, if we fail, then I would rather fail like this.” Before Dean could stop him he leaned in and kissed him, gentle and chaste but lingering. Even the slight contact had his body buzzing with pleasure, flash fire blazing through his human veins. The response he had to Dean’s skin on his own in any form was always too intense to be controlled. This was his drug, and he had become a full dependent on it. He moved closer, one arm snaking around Dean’s waist to anchor them together, lips still nuzzling against Dean’s. “Let me heal you.”   
  
“Heal what? God, everything’s broken, I don’t think there’s anything left to fix.” The words were thick, exhausted. He really was tired of fighting, and Castiel regretted pushing him. Later, he would ask forgiveness. For now, he was only glad that Dean wasn’t sending him away.   
  
“Let me try.” He caught Dean’s lips again, and this time he responded, tongue sliding out to taste him, teeth tugging gently on Castiel’s lower lip. The angel shivered, whimpered, shut his eyes and drank hungrily from the kiss. He was lost, closer to falling every day. The  _need_  he had for this man was worse than anything Anna had ever done. And still, he didn’t care.   
  
When they broke for air Dean pushed insistently at his trench coat and he slid his arms back to let it fall along with the suit jacket underneath, glad to be rid of the barrier. The next kiss was different, harder, Dean’s earlier anger reawakening and showing itself in the form of desperation, his hands clawing at the buttons on Castiel’s shirt. He gasped, his whole body shifting forward and into those questing hands. Dean all but ripped the shirt of his back once it was open, hands sliding immediately to yank the tie over his head.   
  
Castiel hadn’t even noticed their movements in the direction of the bed until his knees hit it, buckling and bringing him to his back, Dean over him. It was good, but not quite enough and he slid back farther, positioned himself completely on the bed, Dean’s full weight on him. Dean took advantage of the position and rolled his hips just right, pressing hard into Castiel’s rapidly growing erection. His head fell back as he cried out, Dean taking the opportunity to fasten his lips over his pulse, sucking hard.   
  
They lost themselves in each other quickly, hands and lips roving, Dean’s forceful, steady thrusts setting the pace of their hips. Castiel ran his fingers through his lover’s close cropped hair, slid them down to knead gently at the nape of his neck. “Dean…oh, Dean…” It sounded as much like a prayer as any he had ever given, breathless, heartfelt and desperate.   
  
Dean growled, a low feral sound that should have sounded too dark but somehow didn’t, a sound that instead spawned pure desire, a tight coil of it wrapping around his chest, his lungs, settling heavy under his skin. Castiel spread his hands further, ran them heatedly over Dean’s chest, pressed his palm for a moment over his rapidly beating heart. He nuzzled against his cheek, sought Dean’s lips with his own even as he slid his hand higher, fitting perfectly over the handprint scar that his grip had made.   
  
He knew from experience how it affected Dean, wasn’t surprised to feel the sudden sharp thrust of his hips, hear the muffled curse as he broke the kiss.   
  
“ _Fuck_. Yes…”   
  
“You are not theirs, Dean. Not his.” He wasn’t sure why he said it, except that he couldn’t keep it in. Possession, another sin. “I am the one that marked you.”   
  
Dean groaned, dipped his head to bite hard at Castiel’s collarbone, sucking desperately as he ground their hips together. “Then…” he was panting, barely willing to stop tasting the angel’s skin long enough to speak. “Here…” He rolled over suddenly, his grip on Castiel tugging him along with him. He arched underneath him, his intentions clear. “Go ahead.”   
  
Castiel paused, his breath coming quick. This certainly wasn’t the first or even second time they’d shared a bed, but still…he was far behind when it came to experience, and he had never taken the lead. “I…”   
  
Dean’s hand burned a trail down his chest, worked his belt loose enough to slip inside. He stroked him once, slow but firm, squeezing gently when Castiel moaned. “C’mon, Cas. Do it.” He let go, hands falling to his own boxers to shove them down past his hips, kicking them to the floor from there. He pushed pointedly at Castiel’s pants, inching them down.   
  
That, he could take care of. He banished his remaining clothes to across the room with barely a conscious thought, smiling when Dean muttered something about how that just wasn’t right. “Quicker, however.”   
  
“Mm. I don’t care.” Dean locked a hand around his neck, pulled him down for a searing kiss, their bodies tangling together. “Now. C’mon.”   
  
The thought of taking Dean, of the proud, stubborn man willing relinquishing that much control…the thought alone was enough to make him shudder. He silenced Dean with another kiss, tongue delving deep. A gentle squeeze of Dean’s hip had him moaning into Castiel’s mouth, hard and low enough that he could feel the vibration of it.   
  
“God…you’re getting so much better at that. I mean, don’t get me wrong you were a good kisser to begin with but-“  
  
“Hush.” Castiel could hear his own voice low and rough with arousal, need pulsing hotter under his skin with every instant. He kissed him again, gentle but thorough, the palm of his hand smoothing in slow circles over Dean’s ribs. “I will never tire of touching you.” He didn’t realize he’d whispered it aloud at first but there it was, soft and tinged with awe.   
  
“That’s great, but-“ He pressed up against his angel, lips brushing hot and wet against his ear. “Need you to do a little more than that right now.” Dean’s hips rose, rubbing insistently against Castiel.   
  
He groaned, gave in to the urge to grind Dean into the mattress. “I don’t…I’ve never…”  
  
“Well it’s not like you have no idea how it works, now is it? Hey.” He turned serious on the last word, enough to draw Castiel’s gaze. “I need you to do this. Ok?”   
  
How could he ever refuse? It was becoming more and more clear every day that when Dean asked, he could do nothing but obey. He nodded, giving in, leaning down to kiss Dean again as he spread his legs with one thigh. Still he hesitated, drew out a few more dizzying kisses before he pulled away. “In your jacket?”   
  
Dean shook his head, eyes downcast. “No. We’re out.” There was guilt somewhere in his eyes, but Castiel didn’t want to know its source. They hadn’t been out of lube the last night they had spent together, and he didn’t particularly want to know what had happened between now and then. Either Dean had thrown it out in a moment of anger or…he didn’t really want to dwell on any other option. “ ‘S ok though. I don’t need much.”   
  
That in itself should’ve been troubling, but it was another subject he didn’t dwell on. He knew too much about Dean’s more than ample sexual past already. He nodded, putting it all out of his thoughts. “If you’re sure.” His eyes leveled with Dean’s, all seriousness. “I won’t hurt you.” He said it with conviction and he meant it, but the spark of emotion it brought to Dean’s eyes took him pleasantly off guard.   
  
“I know. It’s alright, you won’t.”   
  
“Alright.” One more kiss then he brought his fingers to Dean’s lips, gasping when Dean quickly took them in, suckling eagerly. The sensation, the  _sight_  was shockingly erotic, and he suddenly understood why Dean had pulled his hand away so quickly the last time he had done the same. “ _Dean_ …please…” The pleasure of white hot lust had been new to him, at first. He would have prayed for forgiveness, but it happened far too often. He knew he wasn’t sorry, and God only forgave the penitent.   
  
Dean ran his tongue along the underside once more before letting Castiel’s fingers slip wetly from his mouth, eyes burning dark with his own lust. “I think you’re getting a dirty mind, Cas.”   
  
He ignored that, slid his fingers between them and down to press one against his entrance. “You’re certain?”   
  
“Will you just get on with it?”   
  
Carefully, he slid one finger in, conscious of each breath Dean took, each sound that escaped his lips. If he hurt him, this would stop. His movements were slow, deliberate, and he smiled at the way Dean was soon rocking against his hand.   
  
“You don’t have to go so slow, you know. Sometime before I get old would be nice.” Even now, his trademark humor was still shining through. Castiel wouldn’t have taken him any other way.   
  
He let his smile widen, dipped his head to press a kiss against Dean’s shoulder. “I thought I was in control.”   
  
Dean sighed, melodramatic. “My mistake.”   
  
He added a second finger as carefully as the first, sliding in just far enough to crook them right about where he thought he needed to. He wasn’t disappointed. Dean’s body jerked in his arms, neck arching as he cried out.   
  
“Fuck… _Cas_ …”   
  
“Yes?” It was warm, taunting, and he was sure that if Dean had been a little more coherent he might have punched him. As it was, Castiel was still rubbing him deliberately slowly, Dean’s entire frame shaking with need.   
  
“Freaking angel…” Castiel added another finger, pressed harder, and the words were replaced by a desperate moan that had his cock twitching. “Son of a bitch…fuckin’  _tease_ …”   
  
Castiel laughed, the feel of it warm in his chest. “Shh.” He shifted their positions enough to line himself up, breath coming ragged as he licked his own palm, used it to prepare himself. Dean’s groan drew his gaze and he looked to see Dean watching him with dilated, lust filled eyes.   
  
“Oh God. Do that again.”   
  
Slowly, his eyes never leaving Dean’s, he reached for the other man’s hand, brought it to his lips to lick a wet trail across his palm. Dean swore, eyes darting between Castiel’s face and lower as he guided Dean’s hand down to stroke him. For a moment he reveled in it, his hips moving in rhythm with Dean’s skilled touch. Good as it was, he knew if he didn’t stop him, his body could not hold out much longer. He pushed his hand away, guided himself into position.   
  
“Are you ready?”   
  
“I was ready eons ago, c’mon.”   
  
He pushed in slowly, leaning over Dean on one arm, the other hand gripping his hip tight. Dean’s breath came in short pants, his eyes shut. “If I’m-“  
  
“It’s gonna hurt a little, you know that, don’t you  _dare_  fuckin’ stop now.”   
  
Castiel wasn’t sure if he could’ve stopped, even if he need to. Only when he was buried in him fully did he stop, and even then it was hard. The muscles in his arm trembled, a massive overdose of desire spinning through him. This was familiar and new all at once, and the wild, animal urge to thrust into Dean, to claim him, was almost overwhelming. Dean rocked against him, barely a twitch but enough to make him moan, his body quivering.   
  
Dean’s hand was in his hair then, pulling him down, kissing his lips, his forehead. “It’s ok. It’s ok. You can move.”   
  
He could, but once he did he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep it under any kind of control. And he was equally sure it wouldn’t last very long.   
  
Dean wrapped his legs around his waist, rocked against him enough to take him in just a little bit deeper, drawing a gasp from the angel’s lips. He shuddered, and let go of every conscious thought. His vessel knew more than enough about how to do this, and he let human instinct and pure emotion take control.   
  
He knew from experience that sometimes Dean wanted things rough and fast, but more often than not he was a surprisingly gentle lover. Really, it shouldn’t have been surprising. As with everything else, Dean’s emotions were never put into words but rather shown through his actions, his protective nature. The role of a protective lover certainly suited him.   
  
It was slow at first, Castiel adjusting to this new role, to the feel of being inside Dean, surrounded by tight, wet heat. He sped up the tempo, felt a drop of sweat slide down his back. Dean’s hands were everywhere, nails digging into his shoulders, rubbing down his sides across his ribs, sliding around to stroke his chest. It felt good beyond all description, and it was awhile before he realized there was an almost constant low moan rising from his throat, his forehead pressed against Dean’s shoulder.   
  
He could feel Dean’s heart beating faster, his hand snaking between them to wrap around himself. Castiel wouldn’t let him, brushed his hand away and closed his own fingers tight around the firm, slick skin, moving just the way he knew Dean liked. He was close, incredibly close, and he tugged harder, wanting for Dean to find release first. He turned his head, nuzzled into his lover’s neck with hot, wet kisses. “ _Dean_ …”   
  
It was all he needed to say. Dean moaned his name, cock jerking in Castiel’s hand as his muscles clenched around him. Castiel was hardly a second behind him, biting into Dean’s neck, his body shuddering as he came. He was reeling, the daze of climax still a relatively new experience for him. In millennia, he had never imagined anything would be able to leave him so dizzy and weak and yet so utterly euphoric. In the moments after, he wanted nothing more than to stay in this man’s arms forever. He slid out reluctantly, pressing a kiss to Dean’s cheek as he did. “Magnificent.” He muttered the word soft, barely escaping his lips.   
  
Dean let out a breathless laugh, wrapping his arms tight around Castiel to keep him from pulling away. “Most people just say ‘wow’, but you know, that works.”   
  
“You know your pride is-“  
  
“A sin, yeah, yeah, yeah. But considering what we just did, I think you oughta let that one slide.”   
  
“Actually I was going to say amusing. But you’re right, we’ve covered at least a handful of the deadly sins.” His stomach dropped a little at the thought. How many did he need to go through? How many  _would_ he go through, for Dean? He was beginning to fear that where Dean was concerned, he would have no limits.   
  
“We? Nah, it’s mostly me. You’ve just got lust, that’s not so bad. Me, wrath, pride…God, I know there’s more I just can’t think right now.”   
  
“Hm.” Castiel nuzzled closer into Dean’s neck until Dean pulled him up, claiming his lips in soft kiss. He sighed with pleasure, a tiny whimper leaving his chest as Dean’s arms tightened around him.   
  
“God, you must be the only one on the planet to make sex noises over cuddling.”   
  
“Is that wrong?”   
  
Dean laughed once, warm. “Wrong? Hell no. It’s freaking weird though.” He smoothed a hand down Castiel’s back, kissed his temple. “But, I kinda like it.”   
  
They were silent for awhile, exchanging lazy kisses until Castiel lay his head down on Dean’s chest, fingers stroking over the pentagram tattooed over his heart. “If this was supposed to convince either one of that this was a bad idea, you miscalculated.” Castiel spoke softly, a lingering trace of amusement in his tone. He hoped it covered the actual nervous fear he felt, anxious that Dean might still insist they needed to stop.   
  
“Yeah, well…” He shrugged, ran his fingers through Castiel’s permanently messy hair. “Can’t say I’m sorry.” He sighed, seriousness settling into his eyes. “I meant it though, Cas. This isn’t smart. This isn’t gonna end well, it can’t. Either one of us is gonna get hurt real bad, or both of us are.”   
  
“Likely. But as I recall, you believe in…in family sticking together. And if I am indeed to turn my back on my garrison’s orders then you are all I have left.”   
  
He felt Dean’s breath catch, pause. “You know Sammy’s always gonna mean more to me than anything else. I hate to say it like that, but that’s the blunt truth.”   
  
Yes, he had known that for a long, long time. “I know. I accept that. It doesn’t bother me.”   
  
“It might, later.”   
  
“It won’t.” And even if it ever did, he would never breathe a word.   
  
“I’m screwed to hell.”   
  
“I love you, Dean.”   
  
Dean pushed him off enough to turn over, leaning on one arm and looking him in the eyes. He could see it there, Dean’s answer. There was love in his eyes, and it would have to be enough. He knew beyond all doubt Dean would never be able to say the words. Instead, Dean leaned in and kissed him, let his forehead rest a moment against Castiel’s.   
  
“Then God help you.” 


End file.
